


I Have Been in Many Shapes Before I Attained a Congenial Form

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Series: The "Qui-Gon Lives!" 'Verse [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace, Star Wars Episode II: Attack of the Clones, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: All My Apprentices Starring Qui-Gon Jinn, Duel of the Fates, Knight Kenobi, M/M, Multi, Padawan Punishment, Qui-Gon Has a Big Cock, three-way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-18
Updated: 2013-06-18
Packaged: 2017-12-15 09:58:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/848202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dovetails off of a line from my original AU "Qui-Gon lives" story, "Under the Tongue Root a Fight Most Dread": "[H]e'd tell Qui-Gon the truth if he asked. He hasn't asked, but if he did, Obi-Wan wouldn't lie." Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan, and Anakin have a three-way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Have Been in Many Shapes Before I Attained a Congenial Form

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Under the Tongue Root a Fight Most Dread (and Another Raging, Behind, in the Head)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/783186) by [citizenjess (givehimonemore)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess). 
  * Inspired by [Not a Place](https://archiveofourown.org/works/448662) by [Nym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nym/pseuds/Nym). 



> Title comes, once again, from the English translation of some Sanskrit lines of the poem that provided the scant lyrics to "Duel of the Fates." Warning: Underage (seventeen-year-old Anakin, natch). This ... probably didn't need a sequel by any stretch of the imagination, never mind a significantly more porny one than the original 'fic, but, well, there you go. Also, Nym initially came up with the whole "Qui-Gon would leave Obi-Wan's Force access to his/Anakin's quarters up" device in her AU story, "Not a Place," which I've linked to above.

Qui-Gon had not been terribly happy when he finally found out that his Padawan and his former Padawan had been clandestinely meeting, intentionally behind his back, for some months, now. He hadn't been terribly unhappy, either - Qui-Gon did not seem to get unhappy; the worst Obi-Wan had seen him ramp up to had been in particularly heated Council sessions ("you should not go after Xanatos"; "the boy will not be trained") - but he certainly had not been happy about it.

His Padawan, seventeen in his own right, now, and lanky, and doing his damnedest to push all of Qui-Gon's limits, even some Xanatos had never quite reached the upper-echelons of, has grown into quite a beautiful creature. The problem, of course, is that he knows it; Qui-Gon has noticed the uptick in glances in the Chosen One's direction, and worse, yet, the increased pleasure that Anakin takes from it all. It makes him guileless and bratty, encourages him to try to take things that do not belong to him; the unfortunate incident involving Qui-Gon's sleep couch and what Qui-Gon suspected was a high single-digit number of Tatooine Sunburns from the Outlander club had eventually forced him to address the boy's downward spiral, had been the impetus to sitting Anakin down and discussing with him what, precisely, boundaries were, and why he should bother to have some.

That was when Anakin had confessed to having already shared Obi-Wan's sleep couch on several occasions, and to not understanding, he'd claimed with a pout, why his Master's second-most-recent Padawan had gotten to sleep with the illustrious Qui-Gon Jinn when he was not so much older than Anakin himself (here he had handwaved away the three-year age difference, and with it, Qui-Gon's inference that, in fact, a twenty-year-old Obi-Wan had been much more ready for the sexual component of their Master-Padawan bond than Anakin himself seemed to be at present), and also, that he didn't think it was very fair at all. At this, Qui-Gon had just chuckled and chucked the boy on the chin, and then reminded him, with a sly caress of Anakin's long, winding Padawan braid, that there was nothing saying that he ever had to sleep with his apprentice at all. That had squashed his immediate airing of grievances, but, Qui-Gon knew, not the inspiration for such an act, never that, never where Anakin was concerned.

And so here there were, now, in Qui-Gon's quarters because the bed was bigger. Obi-Wan, long-haired and bearded in his own right almost as much as his old Master at this point, had nonetheless paled like a naughty apprentice caught out past curfew when Qui-Gon had pleasantly suggested that he had learned of his former apprentice's transgressions with his newest apprentice. "Were you planning to tell me?" he had asked, and waited patiently until his overly-diplomatic third Padawan stopped looking as though he had swallowed his tongue.

"I ... maybe. If you asked," Obi-Wan finally manages. His eyes are downcast, his hands picking nervously at the folds of his cloak, an old habit. "Master, I'm sorry. I knew that lying by omission was still lying, and I did it anyways. I will submit myself readily to whichever punishment you deem fit, of course."

Qui-Gon smiles, the smile Obi-Wan used to call his 'wizard look.' "You are no longer my Padawan," he says, and Obi-Wan looks back up again. "As such, I have no direct authority over you. Furthermore, if you please, I have little interest in involving the Council of Twelve in a matter of simple discipline involving my current Padawan." 

Obi-Wan nods, but looks puzzled. "Are you ... suggesting anything, then, Master?" he queries slowly.

Qui-Gon watches him as he speaks. "Anakin has obviously decided that he needs a sexual outreach. It is not, in and of itself, an unhealthy realization, and in fact, denying it could be much more negatively consequenced. I would, of course, much rather he receive such experience from within the confines of the Order, however; and given that he has already chosen as his first experiment someone I myself hold in extremely high regard -" at this, Obi-Wan looks rather bashful - "it stands to reason that I believe this arrangement can be tweaked for maximum effectiveness."

Obi-Wan is smiling now. "And what sort of 'tweaking' did you in mind, Master?" he asks, ever polite, head yet inclined deferentially. He sits close enough to Qui-Gon on his knees that the older man can reach out and brush a fond hand down the side of his face, and does. 

"Search your feelings, Obi-Wan, and I believe that you will find you already know the answer to that question."

And how. They had parted ways at that point, at least temporarily, but not before Qui-Gon had clasped Obi-Wan's hand in his, and then, helping to pull his former Padawan into a standing position, tugged the smaller man against his long, lean frame. "Master," Obi-Wan had gasped in surprise, but Qui-Gon had placed a single finger to his lips, and he stopped talking. 

The older man's face slid against his now. "Always so eager to please me, aren't you, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon's voice was husky, his breath warm against Obi-Wan's ear. His hand had moved around to cup the younger man's groin, the other reaching up to trace Obi-Wan's softly-furred jaw line. His third apprentice whimpered, his mouth falling open as Qui-Gon's own lips seemed to draw nearer ... and then his Master moved briskly away, straightening his robes, and flashing him an innocuous smile. "Anyways, I'll be contacting you via commlink, presuming you're not off on another months-long assignment in the next week or so." It was a dismissal, polite, and yet, somewhat sadistic, and Obi-Wan had nodded and bowed and then had returned to his own quarters and had barely allowed the door to close the entire way before taking himself into his own hand and pumping ferociously until he came into his palm, fingers slick and aching a little with the effort. As he stripped down to take a (perfunctory, to be sure) cold shower, then, it occurred to Obi-Wan that his old Master may well have found a way to punish him for his misdeeds, after all.

And now, here, he wonders once more whether he should have agreed to this, whether this, too, is part of the penance that Qui-Gon assured him he would not have to pay. It begins when he palms open Qui-Gon's private quarters - his Master had never removed Obi-Wan's access, always inferring that it was beneficial to everyone that it remained, the couple of times Obi-Wan had broached the topic in conversation - and walks in on Qui-Gon and Anakin, sitting together on Qui-Gon's bed. Anakin, he cannot help but notice, is already nude, and sits cross-legged atop the older man's expansive mattress, his cock nestled in his lap. Twin looks of acknowledgment are offered, and Obi-Wan watches as Anakin's Padawan braid seems to taunt him by wisping against the boy's right nipple. "Good thing it's not cold in here," Obi-Wan muses aloud, and Qui-Gon and Anakin both smile. 

He has brought nothing with him besides himself. Even so, there is the matter of removing his own clothing, a task which Qui-Gon has anticipated. "Why don't you assist Obi-Wan with all of that?" he encourages Anakin, and Obi-Wan watches the boy veritably bounce (in more ways than one) from the bed, landing lightly on the balls of his feet. 

"Hey," Anakin grins, and it's both familiar and decidedly not. His hands waver a little, and then he simply points downwards at Obi-Wan's feet; seemingly of their own accord, the left boot begins to wiggle, and Obi-Wan lifts his leg at the knee to aid in Anakin slipping the tall footgear off entirely. The other boot follows, and Anakin snickers. "You get even shorter without 'em," he laughs, and Obi-Wan rolls his eyes and begins to unfasten his own belt - without judicious use of the Force, he notes to himself. "Aw, c'mon, don't be grumpy," Anakin cajoles, and his hands, too, go to the other man's waist. Anakin's fingers are nimble, even though, as Qui-Gon has mentioned in passing, he is prone to fumbling and outright losing his lightsaber, and soon he has divested Obi-Wan of his belt and is tugging eagerly at the other man's tunics. Behind them, Qui-Gon regards the scene with polite interest; the eldest of the three is not wearing his Jedi uniform at all, but rather a robe, cinched simply at the waist, though the barest hint of thigh flesh implies that, in fact, it is the only barrier to his own nudity.

At last, and simultaneously, too quickly, Obi-Wan's Jedi leggings have fallen to his ankles, upon which he steps out of them, kicking them aside. He sighs a little when Anakin makes to lead him towards the bed, begrudgingly letting the boy grasp his hand and tug. Anakin sits back down again, and then pats the space beside him. "Ample room, Knight Kenobi," he purrs, too seductively for a boy his age, but Obi-Wan hesitates, looking to Qui-Gon for guidance, as usual.

Qui-Gon spreads his hands. "By all means," he smiles, and both Anakin's and Obi-Wan's gazes are rapt on his face. "Let me see what you do when you're alone together."

Anakin, at least, needs no further impetus. Gripping Obi-Wan's fingers again, he tugs the other man down and leans forward, lips sliding against the other's, eyes closing as he adds his tongue, hands trailing to Obi-Wan's broad, bare shoulders. It occurs to Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon might be expecting something of a show, and so he plays his part dutifully (he always does), allowing the kiss to remain open-mouthed for several long moments. Anakin begins to break away then, but Obi-Wan grips his face, reangling his own head, and the kiss continues languidly until Anakin makes a pleading, whining sound and Obi-Wan smirks against his mouth and breaks away. The boy's lips are swollen and he licks them and it's quite pretty.

"That's good." Qui-Gon's voice is rich, appreciative, and Obi-Wan cannot help but feel pleased by the praise. "Very good," his Master adds, and shifts, and with it, the area of his robe where one side intersects with the other, except not particularly well with Qui-Gon in his current position on the bed, and also not well with Qui-Gon's, um. Obi-Wan stares down at the promise of the other man's considerable girth. Beside him, he can see Anakin's gaze drop as well; far less subtle, the boy eventually licks his lips, as well. "Master, move to the edge of the bed, please," he prompts. 

Qui-Gon nods. Then, slowly, he begins to slide into the requested position, long, sinewy limbs moving with careful precision. In the shuffle, his robe becomes even more entangled around his thighs, becomes an even less effective barrier. Smiling, Obi-Wan moves to assist him with this, untying the sash at his old Master's waist, and then parting the pieces of the garment with deft hands. Qui-Gon's bare chest is a welcome sight, as is the impressive length of his cock, which, Obi-Wan notices appreciatively, is now jutting up freely. "Master, may we ..." he murmurs, and hopes that Qui-Gon will not make him beg.

Fortunately, his cherished mentor seems content to keep Obi-Wan happy today. "You may," he acquiesces, and Obi-Wan drops to his knees alongside Anakin, who is now regarding him curiously. Feeling strangely authoritative, Obi-Wan holds up one finger. "Watch," he instructs, and leans in until his nose bumps the dense thatch of hairs surrounding the base of Qui-Gon's cock. Tentatively, he licks a stripe from beneath to the head, trying not to outright beam at his Master's sharp, pleasured intake of breath. Qui-Gon's member is lovely and feels familiar in his hand; he grips the base, now, and uses his other hand to toy with his Master's balls, before rising slightly on his knees and sucking the head between carefully sheathed teeth. 

"Obi-Wan." Qui-Gon very nearly squirms, though he manages to keep his composure for the most part, bracing himself atop the mattress, legs spread, feet almost dangling, save for the fact that his big toes are touching the carpeted floor below. He regards Obi-Wan tenderly as his third Padawan lavishes attention on his genitals, laving the cockhead with the flat of his tongue, the very same tongue which the young-ish Knight has used to successfully call for diplomatic solutions across several systems in the known galaxy. The second-eldest man in the room has many talents in his own right, and Qui-Gon vacillates sharply as Obi-Wan proves this suddenly by taking all of him down his throat in one swift movement, and then holding him there. Interest piqued, Qui-Gon reaches out a hand and grips Obi-Wan's chin; with the other, he pinches the young man's nostrils shut. "Hold it there," he commands softly, and Obi-Wan swallows around the flesh nervously, his face becoming increasingly flushed, his own body beginning to tremble, and then Qui-Gon lets him go, and he pops the length out of his mouth with a loud slurping sound. 

Qui-Gon's pupils are huge. "Very pretty," he compliments, and then everyone's attention is on Anakin, who looks as though he has just incorporated something important into his mental repertoire of sex acts (because, of course, he probably has). "I wanna try," he moans plaintively, and Obi-Wan, resuming his temporary role as teacher, snorts a little. 

"Let's see if you can handle the responsibility first." The boy look mutinous, but allows Obi-Wan to continue controlling things, watching silently, yet avidly as the Knight holds Qui-Gon's dick yet steady, and then leans in a swirls the tip of his tongue around the tip, brushing purposefully across the slit, tracing its entirety. Above them, Qui-Gon's eyes close and open again, with considerable effort. "Now you try," Obi-Wan instructs, and he continues to hold fast to the penis, even as Anakin leans in, licking around the outer rim of the head of Qui-Gon's cock, and then bearing down and taking the first inch or so into his own mouth. Already, at the tender age of seventeen, Anakin knows to keep his eyes open; when Qui-Gon lets out a strangled moan because the boy's fingers ghost over his testes, Anakin smiles around his mouthful. His own deep-throating finesse is nothing short of gorgeous, though Qui-Gon does not hold his face there, nor does he pinch Anakin's nostrils shut. He is still a Padawan learner, Obi-Wan thinks of this; it is only his first time with this particular Jedi Master. He has not yet earned the privilege of Qui-Gon's occasional foray into sado-masochism, of the older man bearing down on him while he is lashed to the bed, pressing into him and disallowing him from touching, even though Qui-Gon's hands are roaming all over his body, patting his belly and testing the firmness of his thighs before reaching down to start mercilessly jacking him off; or in the case of one particularly delicious memory, making his apprentice hold fast to the uncomfortable pose mandated by Qui-Gon's having collared and chained him at the wrists and ankles, and then connecting all three behind his third Padawan's back by way of a short metal pole with connective attachments at strategic junctures. These things, Obi-Wan thinks with a touch of smugness, do not yet belong to Anakin, only to him, and possibly to Xanatos or even to Feemor, though he cannot help but think that Xanatos would have been most aggrieved to be forced to sit, bound and hard with his cock weeping, for hours in the same position, and Feemor, as well. 

Anakin begs off after two minutes or so, mostly because Qui-Gon shifts a little as though he wishes to switch gears. Sure enough: "Ani," he beckons, and the boy beside Obi-Wan gazes adoringly, and then stands. Qui-Gon's erection stands proudly before them, and when the eldest in the room reaches around to lightly run his hand along Anakin's bare flank, and then trails a finger along his crevice, the implication is clear; and then even more so when Anakin's eyes widen. "But you're so ... big," he finishes, and Obi-Wan thinks he might have gulped. Remembering his own reaction to seeing his Master's cock for the first time, he smiles.

"If you're not comfortable, of course, we won't." Qui-Gon's voice is soothing, however, and like every other Padawan to have graced his door, Obi-Wan watches Anakin, too, come under his spell. "Okay," the boy nods after a moment. "Okay." That's when Obi-Wan realizes just how much preparation has gone into this meeting today, as his Master seems to produce from nowhere, but probably from the neighboring bedside table, a small container of something which is soon coating three of the fingers on one hand. "My lap," he says to Anakin, and the boy nods again, and then straddles the older man, legs loosed across the outer edges of both of Qui-Gon's knees, one arm looped lightly around his mentor's neck, back pressed slightly against Qui-Gon's chest. Spread wide, it is easy access to his backside, though Qui-Gon does not abuse the privilege, coaxing the first finger between the boy's soft cheeks with the utmost gentleness. From his vantage point kneeling on the floor, Obi-Wan watches Anakin's face shift, watches that still-swollen mouth fall open, the eyelashes flutter. At one point, Anakin licks his lips, uttering soft, wordless noises that hint at the pleasure he is receiving from Qui-Gon's long digit pumping lightly into him up to the knuckle, and then even further, and when he adds another, stretching the boy further, Anakin is ready for it, keening and his legs, feet dangling off of the ground by several inches, wiggling uselessly.

Qui-Gon begins to put himself inside of Anakin then, his weighty cock pressing past the perineum and then beyond, inch by inch, offering soothing "ssshh"-s and "good, Ani, very good"-s as Anakin shivers and cries and continues rolling his head restlessly back against the older man's shoulder. His stomach muscles ripple, and through the Force, Obi-Wan can feel the waves of pleasure emanating from him, decadent, hedonistic, a bit lewd. Beyond, Qui-Gon's own Force signature is steadier, though as Anakin bounces up and then comes down again, sliding along a good two-and-a-half inches of the older man's cock as he does so, taking it back in and biting his lip obscenely as it happens, Qui-Gon grunts, as well, and the energy surrounding him buckles a little. When he was younger, Qui-Gon told Obi-Wan once that his own aura was blue, only occasionally punctuated by bits of green and, when passion overtook him in his weaker moments, spots of deep purple. Qui-Gon himself resides almost entirely in an aura the color of lush earth, vibrant, alive (thankfully, Obi-Wan thinks, every day that Qui-Gon continues to live instead of residing as an afterthought in the Force, a casualty of the first-known Sith Lord in one thousand years, is a gift of the most supreme order). Anakin's aura has some green in it, as well, but it is outshone by the vibrant gold hues, the very same as the desert planet from where he was found and plucked, ripe and powerful and, yes, potentially dangerous, though Qui-Gon seemed to have a good enough handle on him, now. 

Today, at this moment, the Force sings with all of these colors, ebbing and flowing in a kaleidoscope of vibrancy. It's a heady, pleasurable thing, and not an indulgence that Qui-Gon usually allows. While Obi-Wan was under his wing, the taller man had been particularly ascetic, several hints of his lighthearted nature and the somewhat naive permissiveness he granted to Xanatos deCrion submerged by grief and misplaced love. Obi-Wan had been patient, however; several of his Master's closest friends had told him that that was the only way to melt the ice around Qui-Gon's heart, and just as many seemed quite sure that, in fact, he would. Sometimes, Obi-Wan regards the way Qui-Gon seems to allow Anakin a great many more missteps than he ever seemed allotted - though he supposes abandoning his post on Melida/Daan is quite a different animal than the occasional forbidden night at the Outlander - and feels envious. Still, he likes to think he was responsible for bringing his Master full-circle, that Qui-Gon has healed from Xanatos' treachery because of Obi-Wan's immense love for him, which in turn, allows him to be the mentor that the occasionally wayward Chosen One so desperately needed, because, Obi-Wan thinks, there is no one else who could have trained Anakin as properly as Qui-Gon Jinn. The two were meant for one another, through and through.

Qui-Gon continues to fuck Anakin slowly, his hip movements meted out with painstaking care, one hand curled around the boy's hip. Besides the arm wrapped around Qui-Gon's neck, Anakin's fingers flutter a little. He begins to reach for his own cock, but Obi-Wan sees and cuts in. "H-hey," Anakin gasps, smiling down at the Knight.

"Hey, yourself." Obi-Wan cannot help rolling his eyes a little, but nonetheless takes Anakin in hand and begins stroking the boy's dick, rubbing his thumb around the head and then smearing it along the length to ease the process of jacking him off. "Do you want me to suck it?" Obi-Wan asks, unable to resist something so ludicrous, something that has fallen from Anakin's lips on several occasions in the past. "Tell me you do, Anakin."

"Aah, not f-fair," Anakin pouts, tossing his head back against Qui-Gon's shoulder. "Masterrr," he frowns, but Qui-Gon just chuckles.

"Obi-Wan is your superior, Anakin, and he has asked you to do something."

"Bantha hork," Anakin grouses, as if Obi-Wan has just put him on 'fresher duty or something, and isn't fully prepared to begin blowing him if he but asks. "Fine," he says, and re-trains his gaze on Obi-Wan. "Please suck it, Knight Kenobi."

"Better." Qui-Gon pats the boy on the shoulder, and then thrusts into him hard. Anakin moans again, his slim hips jutting outwards, his cock weeping. Satisfied that the boy has been teased enough, Obi-Wan leans in and steals a drop of pre-come from the tip with his tongue, and then laves over the head. His hand trails across Anakin's balls, and then, he notes with some satisfaction, the placement of the boy atop their Master's lap provides him leverage to grope Qui-Gon a little, as well. He takes advantage of it, grinning wickedly when he hears Qui-Gon's guttural appreciation.

"Obi-Wan." He's always loved the way Qui-Gon says his name, the elongated 'oh,' the deeply uttered last syllable. He rubs at the older man's sac some more, taking time intermittently to fondle Anakin's balls, as well. It seems to be helping them both make headway, and then Qui-Gon eyes him, his breath coming in long, slow takes. "Concentrate on him," he orders. "I'm almost there."

Without fanfare, Obi-Wan leans down and sucks Anakin's full length into his mouth. Anakin's eyes fly open, the hand that was hovering near his nethers before now settling for patting Obi-Wan's hair awkwardly, and then fisting a chunk as Obi-Wan pulls off and then make a show of tonguing over Anakin's slit, rubbing where his cockhead connects with the rest of it. He allows the boy to tug, able to feel through the Force and also by the way Anakin grunts and whimpers that he's getting closer and closer. And then, Anakin is coming, bucking forward, head still thrown back, hands splayed and then in fists, toes scrabbling for purchase against and around Qui-Gon's legs. He's beautiful when he's lost control like this, and Obi-Wan coaxes everything from him before patting him on the leg and briefly wiping his hand on a discarded sock in the vicinity. 

As if on cue - in complete honesty, he has probably been holding off on purpose until Anakin managed to seek his pleasure - Qui-Gon lets out a short bellow and orgasms as well, pressing the boy to him with slightly possessive hands. Anakin's face is turned to the side; he smiles at Qui-Gon and the other man smiles back, and then picks up Anakin's Padawan braid, tracing the boy's nose with the soft spray of hairs on the end. "Okay, Ani?" he queries, and Anakin nods quickly. They look so right together, Obi-Wan is thinking, and then, for the second time that day, they fix him simultaneously with contemplative stares.

"Off," Qui-Gon instructs Anakin softly, and the boy obeys (this time, without lip), hopping off of his Master's lap and skittering a ways away. Qui-Gon's groin is somewhat wet, the hairs a little matted, but he does not seem to particularly care. "Obi-Wan," he says, in the manner that Obi-Wan loves, and when it is time for Qui-Gon to gesture at him, he is just as eager as Anakin to acquiesce. "Sit on the bed," he orders, and Obi-Wan does. From across the room, Anakin watches them as Qui-Gon bends, and then captures Obi-Wan's lips in his. His hand cups the other man's face, pressing a little into the jaw with two fingers, encouraging Obi-Wan to let him in, as if Obi-Wan wouldn't love to do that anyway. His Master's mouth feels familiar and warm, and Obi-Wan moans openly, and then again when Qui-Gon skims down his neck, biting at his throat, before getting on his knees. Stretching, he bites softly at one of Obi-Wan's nipples, his fingers coming up to pinch at the other, and then he thumbs both of them quickly and Obi-Wan hisses and tries to remain semi-still. Qui-Gon chuckles into the flesh of his stomach, and then, oh, there, there he is, that warm, beautiful mouth at long last acknowledging his hardened penis. Qui-Gon knows exactly what he wants, and he's been good today, so good, and with Anakin looking on and Obi-Wan whimpering and squirming against the edge of the mattress, Qui-Gon rewards him by leaning in and sucking his cock.

"Thank you, Master," Obi-Wan sobs, and Qui-Gon has only just started but all of the activity from before, the anticipation has made him more than ready, and he knows he won't last nearly as long as he usually does. Behind them, Anakin smiles a little, cocking his head, watching Qui-Gon's own head bob up and down gracefully, not realizing, perhaps, that Obi-Wan's dick keeps hitting the back of his throat, but it's obvious enough to Obi-Wan, and that's the important part, anyways. His gaze and Anakin's meet, sear; 'this is mine, too,' Obi-Wan's seems to challenge, and though Anakin does not nod or speak, it seems to be well-communicated, even respected - Qui-Gon belongs to the both of them, and Obi-Wan isn't ever going to go away, not completely. The door will be coded to him whether he takes advantage of it or not, and -- "Ohhh, Master," Obi-Wan gasps out suddenly, and a well-placed suckle, as well as some grappling with his balls puts him over the edge. "I think my eyes are crossed a little, now," he jokes, and Qui-Gon's smile is apparent even around his newly-spent dick.

Aftermaths are always awkward. He doesn't live here, and in truth, it would be far more economical to return to his own quarters to shower, and anyway, he is a Jedi, after all, and there are other things to be done besides three-ways with his Master and his Master's newest boy, and recognizing this, Obi-Wan stands and begins to collect his things. Helpfully, Anakin hands him his tunic, even helping him to slip it on, though he withholds the obi and the utility belt until Obi-Wan wrestles his arms behind his back playfully, pulling on Anakin's Padawan braid to help trap him in place. "Good grounding," Anakin grins a little, and Obi-Wan wasn't aware the nature of the consequences for the boy, but it is not his place to judge, after all. Still, he uses his leverage to grip the boy's face, leaning in and kissing him a little on the mouth. 

"Be good," he says when he breaks away again, and pats Anakin's face one last time before turning away to put on his pants. Qui-Gon has since stood himself, stretching his lanky, leanly muscled frame, bare and humble and brimming with life. "Thank you, Master," he says again, and it's not necessarily for anything specific, but also it kind of is.

Qui-Gon's smile is beatific. "So eager to please," he says, calling upon his earlier statement. This time, however, there is an addition: "And have you been suitably pleased in return, Obi-Wan?"

"Yes, Master. Of course." He manages to collect his footwear, and sits along the side of Qui-Gon's sleep mattress to begin tugging everything back on.

"Good." Anakin brings Qui-Gon his robe. "See, Ani? No need to go far away from home for the attention you crave. You have everything right here if you but ask." The eldest man's voice is corrective, firm, yet kind, his eyes twinkling. 

Anakin's head droops a little. "Yes, Master," he breathes reverently, and Obi-Wan watches - perhaps a little enviously, even so, even after everything, because they are just so perfect together and he always felt like he was something of a placeholder in his own apprenticeship - Qui-Gon smack Anakin lightly on the bottom. "Go take a shower," he orders, and Anakin scrambles into the 'fresher, closing the door behind him. He watches Obi-Wan watch the exchange, and speaks to him next: "You are a necessary influence on him, Obi-Wan, and I am proud and grateful. Thank you."

And Obi-Wan, always eager to please, smiles radiantly, the slights of the past battered down momentarily, and bows his head. "You're welcome," he says.


End file.
